


This is Now - Painting on the Glass

by Ansku



Category: Thor (2011)
Genre: Angst, Dark, Disturbing Themes, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-17
Updated: 2012-05-17
Packaged: 2017-11-05 12:53:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/406595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ansku/pseuds/Ansku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some things are too fragile to survive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This is Now - Painting on the Glass

He doesn't know how they got here, not really. _There is a small painting, and an artist who is struggling with it._ It all seemed so simple when they were children, together. _He is not familiar with this medium, and the colours are misbehaving._ Nothing was ever perfect, but few things are, and it seemed like things were worth fixing. _They do not blend like he would prefer them to, nor do they cover, but splotch over each other like some twisted Venn diagram._ It seems like only yesterday when he still thought everything could be fixed. _A picture is forming, but it has a life of its own._ Events are spiralling out of his control, and he can but hold on for the ride. _It is not always a good thing._

One mistake after another, innocent pranks that took a life of their own. _Another attempt at correction leaves the smile wicked, and some insidious reflection gives the eyes an evil glint._ Were those his downfall? _This is not what he wanted to create, this is not what he tried to create, but there it is, and it keeps getting worse._ Was it his own nature that doomed him? _There is no forgiveness in the smooth surface, no excuses accepted for a wavering hand._ Something he was born with that couldn't be hidden with the assumed, new form. _The layers are see-through, and they are all mocking him._

He looks at his brother, and then away. _What is there to do but to start from the beginning?_ It hurts too much to think about their shared past. _Some things are too broken to fix._ There is nothing for it but to move forward, to get rid of the mistakes. _He reaches with his hand, attempts to get to the bottle that would clean away all the horrors._ Maybe if there are no reminders the pain will be less. _But his movements are too sharp - something catches, and then it is too late._ His hand shoots out, too fast to prevent, and the wicked blade of his sceptre sinks into flesh. _The expression shatters against the cold stone of the floor._

Some mistakes cannot be unmade.


End file.
